Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Life is child's play

To truly live, we must find a way to maintain, manage, and nurture our own innocence. Keep in mind that innocence should not be confused with naiveté or outright ignorance, as those are things we should shed in our youth and not ever bring back from the dead. Innocence, as I am referring to it, is the way of seeing and experiencing life that most of us lose, or discard, as children. When we lose sight of the magic in the miniscule or the seemingly insignificant, we lose a valuable part of our perception.

When we give into the wholesale demands of conformity and the ages’ old prescription for adulthood that has failed the masses since before time was time, we consign ourselves to mediocrity and limitations. There is no reason to listen to the ever present “voices of reason”, the people who spend their tiny lives pounding the magic out of anything and everything they encounter. These people see innocence as a casualty of the maturity process, or as an obstruction to knowledge. They are mistaken.

When we can look upon the world with proverbial children’s eyes, but process what we see with the wisdom of an adult, we are on the cusp of transcendence. If we can believe in possibilities, recognizing, but not fearing, limitations, we bring the child’s hopeful aspirations in parallel with the adult’s cachet of experiential knowledge. Finding that cerebral-spiritual space where a pair of innocent eyes is feeding a seasoned and able mind is what sets people like Einstein, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, or Leonardo Da Vinci apart. Their child’s eyes were paired with minds capable of managing broad-spectrum input without putting too heavy a stain on the information being gathered. This allowed them to see differently, and go places where others were unable, or unwilling to go. Their children’s eyes gave them inspiration, and their minds gave inspiration direction. The only other thing we need is the courage to discard judgment and follow through.

The world itself is innocent and harmonious. Every organism on this planet is connected by basic needs. We all require water, some form of respiration, some form of sustenance, etc. It is Man’s intellectual arrogance that brings about almost all His disharmony. Our intellect is a tool, but it is not who we are. Who we are is more than what we think or what we say. It is what we do, where we go, how we conduct ourselves, and a million other things, all of which can be brought into a more harmonious balance if we are able to retain some of the innocence we are so often told must be sacrificed to the god Reality, which is in and of itself an individually conjured reality. The only reality we share, and thereby the only real reality, is life at its most basic functions. Whatever else we claim to understand is really nothing more than opinion and hypothesis.

Innocence should not be discounted or neglected. It should be harvested, nurtured, and protected as much as possible. Carrying a bit of innocence with us allows for optimism and creativity. Not only that, it grants us access to a more honest, less biased understanding of the world around us. Too much of the world we know is prescribed, rather than deducted. The only way to undo that teaching is to look on the world with fresh eyes and relearn what it means to be alive. Innocence is integral to that process.

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Posted by Erik @ 7/31/2007 10:03:00 AM :: (0) comments

Monday, July 30, 2007

A plan is forming

When the soul begins to cry out for something, we either listen and satiate its desires, or we ignore the calling and suffer the repercussions. At this age, I’ve learned it is always wiser to listen. The problem is, what the spirit desires is often difficult, if not impossible to attain. Luckily, in my case, what is being asked of me is reasonably easy to attain. My only obstacle will be money, but there are always ways of making more of that.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to get away from my fellow Floridians. I have nothing in common with them, and have not enjoyed being around most of them for years now. The only thing keeping me here is the place and a very few people who are special to me. If it weren’t for Florida’s beaches, my small circle of close friends and family, and my desire to finish my degrees at Eckerd, I would be on my way. That is where the calling comes in.

I am going to travel. This world is full of beautiful places, and I want to make a concerted effort to see more of them. Next year I will be spending two weeks in Europe, as part of a school-related ‘term abroad’. The next year, I would like to visit Egypt, so that I can see the pyramids, the Valley of the Kings, and the remnants of their ancient civilization firsthand. Ever since childhood, I have had a fascination with ancient mythology and culture, so I plan to take other trips centered around seeing relics of ancient societies. Assuming I can afford such trips, I would like to take at least one a year, until I have had my fill. Of course, it’s not so simple as just hopping planes and going where the whim takes me.

Savannah College of Art and Design is almost certainly going to establish a satellite campus in the Tampa Bay area. Members of the faculty at Eckerd are actively lobbying for some sort of affiliation or collaboration between the two schools, which would hopefully bring SCAD to St. Petersburg. Assuming they do open a campus in the area, I am almost 100% certain that I will be doing a Masters in Fine Arts with them. If that happens, life will get more expensive and my time will be more consumed by art making, which means finding the time to travel and paying for flights, hotel rooms, food, etc will become much more difficult…but not impossible.

In the meantime, more domestic trips to Kentucky to see my brother and his family, as well as a few motorcycle journeys will have to happen. I am finding myself more compelled by wanderlust than at any time in my life to this point. Florida will always be home, as I can’t imagine living anywhere else, but I must do a better job of venturing out. I’m a crab by birth, so I have to stick close to the water, but I am also acutely aware that there is no place for me amongst the people here. So the only reasonable answer is to take periodic vacations from said people, while seeing more of this world and experiencing more of its magic. With any luck, my 30s will be well spent, expanding my mind and my life.

here there is a will, there is a Way.

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Posted by Erik @ 7/30/2007 09:25:00 AM :: (0) comments

Sunday, July 29, 2007

The thing I miss

The thing I miss most about being in a relationship isn't sex, it is the reassurance and calm generated by physical contact with someone I care about. I seem to remember writing about this previously, but can't say for sure, and don't feel like taking the time to look through the list of posts, so here we go again...for the first time...maybe.

It seems a little pathetic to admit it, but sometimes it is a massive relief simply to be embraced and held by someone you care for. In my life, I have rarely had the opportunity to experience this simple, yet infinitely powerful interaction, and I am not ashamed to admit that I wish this was not the case. The comfort that comes from a sincere embrace delivered by someone close to us is something not to be dismissed. In a simple gesture, we are being welcomed into their private environment, their personal space, for lack of a better term. We are literally pulled in to partake in their warmth and solidity. On some level, when two people embrace in this context, they are sharing a piece of the essence that is existence. Their senses are stimulated, their souls are put at ease, and their minds are free to offload whatever burdens may be troubling them in that moment.

The nose is free to revel in their scent, the eyes are free to soak up their physical presence, or to close and remove one degree of separation, that being the visual awareness that the embraced is separate and distinct in space from the embracer. If things escalate, a kiss might be shared, and taste will be transmitted across the lips. Of course, should things continue on, we engage in progressively more intimate interaction until things reach their pinnacle. Given the weight and power of sex, and I speak only from my personal understanding, it can be less a comfort, and more of a burden, depending on circumstances.

Now that I think about it, a genuine, caring embrace is harder to cheapen or stain than sex and in some ways, more fulfilling. A heartfelt hug can last longer, provide greater comfort, and be more honest than sex. To hold someone is a simple, potent act. To hold someone without ulterior motives or sexual aims declares a level of innocence and sincerity that is often lost in sex. Too many times, sex is just fucking, but it seems to me that an insincere embrace is a much rarer thing. Sex carries such a compelling, hormonal aspect, and it is so cheapened in this physical world, that it is easy to "get lost in the moment". In some ways, sex may be easier to throwaway, so to speak, than a long embrace. Taking someone into our arms is more restrained and less chemically charged. This makes it more difficult to be dishonest, not impossible, certainly, but with less visceral pay off to be had, more difficult.

An embrace takes time, and delivers a very different satisfaction. One has to be sincerely invested in order to spend that time without want of taking things to another level. By submitting to an innocent embrace, we are free to enjoy the moments, minutes, or even hours without the complications of sleeping together. Sometimes, we really do just want to be held. I can't believe I actually typed that, but I would be lying were I to deny its truth. Sadly, sincerity is rare and incredibly hard to find in our physical existences. Always has been, always will be. I think this lack of sincerity is one of life's true tragedies, and we are all worse for it, but that is why seeking it and living it in our lives is paramount. There is no good reason not to, and the rewards can make life that much more magical.

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Posted by Erik @ 7/29/2007 09:39:00 AM :: (1) comments

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Uploaded a few of my drawings from this past term

I finally got around to uploading some of my drawings from this term. Nothing overly impressive, but it's nice to be continually working. You can check them out on my DeviantArt account. Nothing much else to report.

My ability to hold off on resurfacing my backrest and passenger pillion lasted all of a week. Dropped both parts off this morning and picked up a service manual for the bike on the way home. Just listening to a little Janis Joplin, and working on a drawing I've owed Scott for about a year now. Anyone want to model as a pin-up girl? lol

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Posted by Erik @ 7/28/2007 03:07:00 PM :: (3) comments

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Low Miles Blues

Don't ask. Had a long conversation about relationships with a friend at Quaker Steak, of all places. Came home wanting to crawl out of my skin with frustration, and decided to write something to help cheer myself up. It's not Muddy Waters, but it helped break me out of a potentially demoralizing spiral of thought.

Imagine a gravel-voiced, barrel-chested blues man griding this out at the top of his lungs. His only other instrument an ancient slide guitar. His venue, a stereotypical, grungy, Deep South dive bar. Now you have an idea of the mental image and aural style I was envisioning. Enjoy. ;)

Low Miles Blues

Shoulda been a manwhore
Instead o’ this well-mannered bore
Shoulda been a manwhore
Bending broads against apartment doors
Sprawling on carpets with a roar
In parking garages, or in front o’ grocery stores
Spreading that ol’ seed from shore to shore

Oh yeah baby, shoulda been a manwhore
Shoulda bedded a hundred-fifty-four!

Lordy, lordy can’t you see
Should have shagged a million and one
‘cause the world ain’t no place for
a measured, moral man
No sir, it just ain’t no place at all

Dear Lord, shoulda been that manwhore
The one none o' the birds ignore
Shoulda focused on the score
Shoulda been a manwhore
But these fool eyes focused on something more
And watched opportunity soar
Blinded by damn fool's hope forevermore

Shoulda ran with the wild ones
Coulda had all kindsa fun

Whoa there young lady
You got a coupla minutes to spare?
‘Cause it’s the path o’ least resistance
in this race 'tween the turtle and the hare
Next life, gonna be the world’s latest, greatest,
Most prolifically propogated
Most spectacular in back o' ya

Someday baby, you and me, in a tree
Oh yeah girl
All night long
Lord Almighty all night long!

Shoulda been a manwhore
Shoulda focused on the score
Coulda had least a dozen
Never mind just one or two more

Posted by Erik @ 7/26/2007 12:38:00 AM :: (0) comments

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

My bike rides like a couch

Goddamn would Scott be disappointed. lol Lucky for both of us, he doesn't have to ride it! This seat is comfortable! The looks are a bit distorted by the camera's flash, it's actually more burgundy than it looks in the images..closer to the bottom pic, than the top one. It matches the burgundy pinstripe in the bike's paint VERY closely. The passenger pillion and backrest will probably get recovered soon, but I didn't want to do them before hand without being sure I liked the look. I'm happy, so they will go under the knife at some point.

I'm starting to sense a LONG ride coming on. I'm thinking a 1000 mile Iron Butt ride might be in order. With this seat, I am in a great cruising position and with the backrest, I hardly have to hold on to the grips. Pics of my new WWII fighter pilot goggles some other time. :)


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Posted by Erik @ 7/24/2007 11:05:00 PM :: (1) comments

Monday, July 23, 2007

Jackson Pollack

Wrapped up the Summer drawing course with a 2+ hour movie detailing the rise and fall of Jackson Pollack. If you're not familiar, Pollack was an early-to-mid 20th century painter who was one of the original abstract-expressionist painters. He is also credited with being the father of action painting. His work was some of the most original of its time, and he eventually achieved a high level of fame, though he would truly rise, peak, and plateau in the span of about 10 years. Eventually, his notoriety began fading, as did his output and relevance.

He was born in 1912 and would be dead by 1956. In that time, he developed a unique style born of years struggling in New York City. He would achieve fame with the help of Peggy Gugenheim and Clement Greenberg. Gugenheim was Pollock's primary patron, and Greenberg was the most powerful art critic of his day. Once both of these individuals were on Pollock's side, his eventual rise to fame was almost assured. Inevitably, he climbed the short ladder to the top of America's modern art hierarchy, where he would remain for a decade.

Unfortunately, Pollock was also a raging alcoholic. On more than one occasion, he found himself waking up on a New York sidewalk or storm drain. Prior to achieving fame in the 1940s, Pollock was regularly on the verge of being homeless. Between his lack of money and his dependence on alcohol, it's amazing the man survived to become Amerca's most famous artist, but he did.

By the 1950s, the American art scene had begun moving away from abstract expressionism and Pollock seemed to be less motivated by it himself. Instead, he returned to figure drawing, something abstractionists had expressly sought to move away from. His time at the top had more or less ended by the time he decided to drive his mistress and her friend around town at a high rate of speed while loaded to the gills with liquor. At some point, he miscalculated, left the road, and killed both himself, and his mistress' friend Edith Metzger. His girlfriend, Ruth Kligman, survived the crash, and continues to make art to this day.

In many ways, Pollock embodied the troubled, drug-addled artist stereotype. He was impetuous, arrogant, pretentious, and very likely a narcissist. His art fails to move me, but then I do not have the intellectual background required to fully appreciate what he was trying to do. Pollock's work seems to be more of an academic exercise than an expression of his soul, but then there are people with far more valid credentials than I who would argue that his portfolio is exactly the opposite. With those people, I would have to politely agree to disagree. Suffice it to say, I am not particularly interested in the abstract expressionist period.

All that said, I am very much looking forward to next term's painting class. I have hardly any experience with paint, and that tidbit of dabbling was done over 12 years ago now. This should be fun. :)

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Posted by Erik @ 7/23/2007 11:58:00 PM :: (0) comments

Wishing after angels

Jimi Hendrix has a song called "Angel". It was one of the last songs he recorded prior to his untimely demise. In it, he sings about a visit from an angel and her promise to rescue him the following day. She returns the next day and as promised, she takes him home to Heaven. In the song, Jimi's angel is lifted skyward by silver wings and illuminated by a "child's sunrise". Jimi is at peace and welcome's his ascension without fear. He encourages her to "Fly on, my sweet angel, fly on through the sky." The song is peaceful and relaxed. There is no anxiety in passing and the journey is welcomed.

I think, in some way, we're all looking for angels. Now do not misunderstand, I am not saying that we all look forward to death, but I do believe we all end up finding a way to accept and be at peace with our own mortality. To face death in fear and horror seems like such an undignified, or even terrible way to go. Death is inevitable. It is the one thing we are all guaranteed, the moment we begin developing into zygotes. Once the life essence is within us, the one thing we can be absolutely certain of is that it will one day leave. Most of us will neither know when, nor how, but we can all rest easy in the knowledge that one day, our time will be done and the Great Question will finally be answered.

Depending on what you believe, the ramifications of your actions in life may or may not be realized in death, the after life, or whatever lies beyond that final closing of the eyes. There is some comfort to be gained from the fact that it is a sure thing. Of course, the question surrounding when is enough to frighten us, but letting go of that fear is part of transcending our physical self and truly setting ourselves free of the trivialities of our day-to-day dramas. Spirituality doesn't have to be something we just talk about, it can be something we live every day. By embracing our own mortality, we free ourselves to stop worrying about the when, and open up our potential to truly live for now. In so doing, we elevate our understanding, and shed the anxieties that work so hard to smother us. We are free to live our lives according to our principles and ideals, because the only thing that truly matters is our spiritual, physical, and mental health. The opinions of others, the transient troubles of this primitive world, the ebb and flow of our own insecurities, are irrelevant, as the only thing that truly matters is living life until death. What that means will vary from person to person, so the only stress becomes finding others who share your values and ideals with which to spend however much social time your spirit requires. Even this stress can be overcome by finding contentment within yourself, but we are social animals and I believe we all have a certain compulsion to interact with others on some level. I, for one, struggle with the perils and pitfalls of human interaction everyday.

And this is where I wish angels would enter the picture. I wish there was a place where willing people could be taken that was segregated from the general masses. A place where we could be free of the trite, shortsighted, consumer culture that pervades all modern, industrial societies. We are a vacuous, anti-intellectual, spiritually vacant society occupying one of the world's most diverse and beautiful land masses. This place could be something like the Christian concept of Heaven on Earth. We could live in paradise, but will not ever realize that potential because of the inherent failings in the human animal. Unfortunately, people are everywhere worth living, so there is no escape short of living in the woods on privately owned acreage, or moving to an area other humans would deem uninhabitable.

But wouldn’t it be nice if an angel could give us an escape without having to take our lives from us in the process? I just want to live in a beautiful place full of enjoyable, honest, honorable people. Unfortunately, such people are generally the exception, rather than the rule, so we our only reprieve is seeking good people out, and doing our best to surround ourselves with them. In this way we make our own private effort to shield out the selfish, ugly culture all around us. We are Rome and it is slowly burning. With that in mind, I think I might be able to relate to those early Christians who met their ends in the ancient Coliseum. The primary difference being that I would much rather be feeding Romans to the lions. C’mon angels, we need a miracle. ;)

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Posted by Erik @ 7/23/2007 10:29:00 AM :: (2) comments

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Bottoms up

Last night was my buddy TerryHo's 30-something-eth birthday. Naturally, some of his friends gathered for a celebration. The night started innocently enough at TGI Friday's in Countryside, where the Blue Moon flowed like water and food seemed to come by the truck load. I was riding, so I limited myself to one Sam Adam's with dinner, and lots of water. Obviously, it wasn't long before I was the only totally sober male at the gathering. Eventually, we paid our bills, headed back to TH's house, where the group enthusiastically partook in more beer. I donned a borrowed button down, as we were headed to some place on Ulmerton called The Flow Lounge. I had never heard of it, but Jason, one of Terry's long-time friends, knew some people who could get us in to VIP for free.

So we head out with a group of five guys and two girls to a club I had never heard of in a part of town I had never partied in. Everyone is drinking, and knowing this crowd, I had a feeling that I would be in for what would most likely be a long night. I had one more beer, since it would be hours before I saw my bike again(I wasn't driving), and we hit the road. Here's where you have to understand something about my boy TH and his group of buddies. These guys used to party at insane levels. Lots of alcohol, lots of sleepless nights, and lots of foggy mornings. They used do the Miami thing on a regular basis and practically lived in Ybor back when Ybor was still a fun place to be. Terry's buddy Todd is an animal. Once he starts tipping them back, he's not stopping until the sun rises. I figured it was going to be a fun night.

We get to Flow and the place is packed. It is not that there were too many people, so much as there was too little space. The place is your typical bar/club...loud music, a couple of different themed rooms, couches, a few tables, inadequate bathroom facilities, you know the drill. Being sober provided me a different perspective on the goings-on. It is funny how ratcheting back my intake has altered my perception of 'the scene'. It's still just a bunch of people looking to get drunk and hook-up for one night stands (it's a high class world!), but the whole menagerie is less entertaining sober. It was fun hanging with the TH crew, and we met a couple of old acquaintances from the car scene that I hadn't crossed paths with in months, but overall, I was pretty indifferent about the journey and the destination. Everyone else was on their way to drunk town, but I was just sitting back, enjoying the scenery.

Todd and Jason were all about getting some random ass, Terry was all about getting demolished, despite my best efforts to curb his inevitable destruction, and Matt(the other male in our group) was content to hang with a girl he was pursuing and her engaged friend. I got a chance to catch up with the car scene kids, take a tour of the venue (didn't take long), check out a couple of the female dancers (fantastic physiques), and soak it all in(drunken debauchery is boring at my age). You know what, I don't miss being out in the bar scene one bit. Even the two girls and a guy groping all over one another and flashing artificially augmented breasts failed to incite my interest. I have seen it all before in different places with different faces. It was just a bunch of drunk people trying to look cool, get laid, and be seen. I could practically smell the random drunk sex in the air. For some, it is the scent of paradise, to me, it smells more like a landfill. I must be getting old.

But I'm not the only one. Terry put a serious hurt on, apparently taking two massive swills of Grey Goose vodka, a drink or two, and possibly a shot of something, before knocking over John's(one of the car scene gang) bottle of Ketel One. It went over with a watery thud, ice bucket and all. That was my cue to get him out of the building ASAP, so as soon as the apologies were done, we headed for the door. And it was a good thing. T-Ho was in full blown smasherrific mode, to the point that standing was becoming an issue. We eventually packed into Jason's car and made our way back to the homestead post haste, with one vomit train false alarm along the way. Once we were safely at Casa Ho, said train left the station in a big way, and Terry was partially freed from the grips of the poison filling his belly.

I hung out while Jason and Todd headed back into the night air on a mission to conquer some random trollop's nether regions. In this place, I can't imagine they had much trouble finding some. We said our goodbyes, I wished them a safe journey, and I hung out to keep an eye on Terry while his understandably irritated bride Krizzle fed their baby and rocked him back to sleep. Surprisingly, two drunk guys carrying an obliterated friend, trailing a sober motorcyclist, do not enter a house quietly at 1:30 in the AM. Who'da thunk it? Eventually TH went down for the count, I apologized profusely to Krizzle for not keeping a better eye on him, bid her farewell, saddled up, and steered Audrey toward home. Thankfully, Terry's house is only a few miles away and most of those can be traveled via side roads, so I was able to avoid traffic, which at that hour would be comprised primarily of completely inebriated cagers and near-inebriated cagers. By 3:00AM I was in bed, thus concluding the 2007 edition of TerryHo's Birthday Bonanza.

Posted by Erik @ 7/21/2007 10:50:00 AM :: (5) comments

Thursday, July 19, 2007

What stirs the soul defines the life

What stirs the soul defines the life. Every once in a while, in the context of a conversation, I will ask people what moves them. What stirs the soul? Ignites the passions? Fires the engine inside? All too often, people give evasive, or unsure answers. For me, it's a simple question with a multitude of answers; art, literature, motorcycles, cars, exercise, philosophy, politics, spirituality, family, and on and on. I would have more trouble picking one than coming up with a response. That is not the case for everyone, apparently. I have come to realize that there are people in this place of plenty who are not passionate about anything in particular. Maybe they are not actively aware of their passion, or they are so apathetic as to have squelched any passions they may have once had. Whatever the cause, their spirit and their mind will suffer for it.

There are times when I am having a conversation or just quietly contemplating by myself and a particular thought or feeling will come to me and I will get goose bumps or shiver. I might be working a drawing and feel a rush of energy or riding my motorcycle and be overcome with the urge to smile. Likewise, there are times when I will feel physically disgusted when talking about politics or moral decay. Maybe I'm being overly dramatic, but I get genuine, visceral reactions when discussing the topics I find most compelling. Perhaps that's out of the ordinary, or maybe it is just that I am more aware of the impact because I am more interested in that sort of thing. It's hard to say.

One thing I am definitely not passionate about is work. As I type this, a software version of big brother is counting the seconds, recording exactly what I am working on, and for exactly how long I worked on it, literally down to the second. Using tools like this one is one of the worst forms of management one can imagine, but that is what it has come to at the office these days. We are being watched by an electronic overlord, and evaluated accordingly. Luckily, my schedule is usually so busy that it makes no difference. I generally write this type of post in short installments throughout the day, as I rarely have the kind of time it takes to sit straight through.

But there is of course a backlash against the electronic nanny. No one actually likes the idea of being watched. I see the business value in evaluating peoples' work loads and practices, but I am betting that the damage done to morale by the monitor's presence will cancel out any process analysis value. People are leaving the company in a steady trickle of personnel. Even I've been updating my resume and my CV, there's just no good reason not to in the current circumstance. It doesn't seem like so long ago that working here was fun, but that part of history is getting more distant by the day.

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Posted by Erik @ 7/19/2007 02:49:00 PM :: (0) comments

Sunday, July 15, 2007

The Twins are even cuter in person

The SIL was in town this weekend, so the fam had some time to get together and uncle Erik got to be an active uncle once again. Let me just say up front that those two little buggers and cutest pair babies I have ever seen! They have grown significantly since the last time I saw them, and they are much more active now. It's amazing how much of their individual personalities are already beginning to express themselves. Ava seems to be more antsy and aggressive, while Evelyn is more reserved and considered. Holding them really drove home the understanding of just how rapidly they are growing! With a minimum of support, both babies will try to stand, and it looks like crawling is only a matter of days or weeks away. It is truly amazing how fast they have gone from completely helpless newborns to developing babies. I've seen the transition before with friends' children, but it's all the more fascinating because we are family. :)

So I got to enjoy a lot of smiling, giggling, cooing, and drooling. It was a good time by anyone's standards! I'm not sure I could function as a father, but I do enjoy being an uncle. Being an uncle means lots of holding, goofy faces and smiling, with few of the hardships involved in changing diapers, quieting angry infants, and the other pleasantries that come with taking on life's greatest responsibility.

While riding home, I started giving some consideration to the concept of being a worthy parent. The sacrifice, patience, and dedication. The planning, scheduling, and organizing. A good parent lives for their family. They accept responsibility for absolutely dependent human beings who are utterly helpless in the world. It is a huge commitment, and a beautiful thing, for those willing to make and live that promise. I have nothing but respect for Scott and Laura and responsible parents everywhere, believe me. I have seen how much work and energy goes into good parenting. There is nothing easy about it!

Will I ever take that step? No, not in this lifem and it's no tragedy. If I were younger, or less selfish, or more focused on building a family of my own, obviously, I would be seeking out a mate and hoping to be married. But I'm getting older, my interests are centered almost entirely on the things and places I want to experience in this life, and marriage has not ever been near the top of my goals checklist. I can't even have a functional relationship, so the idea of marriage is out of the question. If you are not married, or at the very least 100% committed to a lifelong relationship, you should not be a parent, bottom line. And the reality is that we are not all meant to be parents. The real tragedy is that so many people who have no business being parents throw their hat in the ring despite their shortcomings. Raising children should be left to those who are prepared for the effort required in being loving, caring parents. It's a shame that so many people who are not willing to fully commit themselves force, or often times fumble, their way into the ring of parenthood.

I think I'll stick with being 'Uncle Erik'. It has a certain charm to it and is most definitely an hell of a lot less work. :)

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Posted by Erik @ 7/15/2007 10:40:00 PM :: (4) comments

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Six months

Love this pic of the twins at six months. :)



And a couple from July 4th, for good measure. :)


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Posted by Erik @ 7/10/2007 09:08:00 PM :: (1) comments

Getting out of my way

Making art, or undertaking any sort of creative endeavour, is a sometimes frustrating form of alchemy that seems to defy any logical interface. When taking on the task of creating, we are actually risking total failure in the name of intangible satisfaction. The drawing may be a complete disappointment, it may end up as trash, but we can't know until we have already begun the process. Every drawing I have ever done has been a failure, because the vision in my mind is always superior to what I have rendered with my hands. I think everyone with a passion for life can relate to this frustration. Even when we get so close as to have faithfully recreated the formless beauty in our mind's eye to the best of our ability, there will be flaws and failings. Flaws are as inherent in the creative process as the spirit that fuels it. At times, the work is so flawed, and the process so futile, that the product really is trash and can be freely discarded.

So I'm working a drawing on Sunday and things aren't going well. It is actually a pastel drawing of a collage based on another drawing I originally did in charcoal. I was happy with the original drawing, not too thrilled with the collage, and disgusted by the pastel. It's funny, because I recognize the fact that I have some skill for creation. Where I would rate is irrelevant, it is enough to say that I have some ability. So I believe in my ability to create, but sometimes my execution is so poor that I can't stand the results. Such was the case on Sunday. Nothing seemed to be working. I literally could not get the pastels to do what I wanted them to, and the more I pushed, the more pushback came from the materials in my hands. It was essential that I step away and do something else, otherwise it may have all ended up in the trash.

I went for a ride to the beach, a slow stroll back and forth on the Dunedin Causeway, then a lazy roll down to Clearwater, and home again to clear the mind. With a more relaxed disposition, I put pastel to paper with the idea of proving to myself that I could use these relatively unfamiliar tools as a means to create something. I started with a simple apple and focused on layering colors. Instead of working to control what was happening on the page, I let the colors interact more freely, and tried to take my desire for control out of the equation. In other words, I let go and just went from the gut. Low and behold, the drawing was fairly successful. Not perfect, of course, but certainly my best effort with pastels to date. I ended up adding in a pair of angel figures borrowed from mom's collection, and a simple background that ran from blue to what was supposed to be a glowing gold. I resisted the urge for halos or auras…barely.

The first drawing remains unfinished and will probably stay that way. I have no desire to revisit it and the prof was happy with my efforts on the other piece. Perhaps I am finally starting to learn the "remove head, make art" lesson. Getting our mind and ourselves out of the way is difficult, but it is the only way to allow ourselves the breathing room needed for honest, creative pursuits. If we can’t get out of our own way, we cannot go anywhere.

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Monday, July 09, 2007

Riding in the wee hours is tense...

yet satisfying. The wind is cooler, the roads nearly empty, and the moon a comforting guide in the indigo sky above.

Riding at ~1am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning creates a difficult conundrum. The push-pull of tranquility versus danger is never stronger for me than when I am riding late on a party night. The pros: cool air, nearly empty roads, and the calm of darkness. The cons: the concealing nature of said darkness, and the knowledge that a significant number of the cars you encounter are being piloted by drivers who have, at the very least, had one or two drinks before getting behind the wheel. So you are enchanted by the mystical sensations of riding a motorcycle in the wee hours, while simultaneously being assaulted by the uneasiness brought about by sharing the road with what you have to assume are cars full of drunk people. I normally ride with the idea that I am invisible at the fore of my mind, but the anxiety surrounding the idea's implications is heightened in the early hours of a Sunday morning. Drunk cagers are the worst kind of cagers.

Letting fear become an overwhelming part of the experience is a huge mistake. I slow more heavily at intersections, take a third or fourth look before pulling out of a side street, and even pull over when a car approaches in the mirros, all in an effort to stay out of a drunk driver's way, but I do not let fear overwhelm my judgment. Riding a motorcycle is as humbling as it is freeing, no matter the hour, so it is always better to be cautious. Your spirit flies, but you have to remember that your physical self is very much still traveling through an unforgiving reality here on the ground. You have to ride in a state of heightened vigilance, because the cagers who are not ordinarily looking for you to in the daylight hours are now driving around at night, some of them with alcohol doing the thinking. That said, I do not regularly ride at that hour, but Saturday was such a full day and it felt so good to be out on the bike, I just couldn't resist.

First thing in the morning, I dropped my OEM seat off at Stitch On Time in Saint Petersburg. The owner/operator Bryan seems to be genuinely concerned with the quality of his work, the quality of his product, and the customer's enjoyment. Let's hope he makes good on his promises of comfort and an improved riding position. I decided to go with a burgundy/black alligator combination that should look a lot less tacky than it sounds. He provided an OEM Fatboy seat to use as a stand-in while mine is being reconstructed, so my scoot will not be down for the 7-10 business days it takes to complete the work, which is a relief. The custom seat will not be cheap, but from what I've been told and from what I have seen, I'll be glad to have spent the money with every mile that rolls by. :)

That afternoon, I rode to Largo and met up with Lamonte, a buddy from high school whom I hadn't seen in 6 or 7 years. He and his family are in town from Indiana visiting his mother-in-law. I had met his wife Angie before, but had not ever been introduced to his children Payton and McKenna. Payton, his son, is the oldest, McKenna, his daughter, is a couple of years younger. They both seem like great little kids. We had dinner, the youngsters held an impromptu show-and-tell session, and I got to show off Audrey. Lamonte rides a 600cc sport bike, so Payton was familiar with motorcycles, and he was very eager to go for a ride. Unfortunately, my passenger pillion is off until my seat is back, so all he could do is watch me ride away.

By the time I left Largo, it was after 10:00 and I was late for a UFC gathering at the Castricone's, so I boogied over there in time to catch the three marquee fights that I really wanted to see. While I was there, something unexpected happened. I got a text message from The Ex. Apparently she was in the PH area and wanted to say hi. After a little back and forth via text messages, I decided to ride over and meet up. Now, before any of you who know the history I have with this girl start groaning, understand that I am not the type to hate any of the girls I have dated. I have no problem with being friends and I no longer drink to excess, so the situation was not an excuse to hook-up or anything of that nature. I was out on the bike, didn't feel like parking it for the night, and the bar she and some friends were drinking at wasn't far away. Nothing happened, they had a DD, it was a polite, cordial, and platonic situation, so no worries, and no assumptions. Thanks. ;)

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Posted by Erik @ 7/09/2007 10:47:00 AM :: (0) comments

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Bob's my boy!

Took a look down a westbound road,
Right away I made my choice
Headed out to my big two-wheeler,
I was tired of my own voice
Took a bead on the northern plains
And just rolled that power on

Twelve hours out of Mackinaw City
Stopped in a bar to have a brew
Met a girl and we had a few drinks
And I told her what I'd decided to do
She looked out the window a long, long moment
Then she looked into my eyes
She didn't have to say a thing,
I knew what she was thinkin'

Roll, roll me away,
Won't you roll me away tonight
I too am lost, I feel double-crossed
And I'm sick of what's wrong and what's right
We never even said a word,
We just walked out and got on that bike
And we rolled
And we rolled clean out of sight

We rolled across the high plains
Deep into the mountains
Felt so good to me
Finally feelin' free

Somewhere along a high road
The air began to turn cold
She said she missed her home
I headed on alone

Stood alone on a mountain top,
Starin' out at the great divide
I could go east, I could go west,
It was all up to me to decide
Just then I saw a young hawk flyin'
And my soul began to rise
And pretty soon
My heart was singin'

Roll, roll me away,
I'm gonna roll me away tonight
Gotta keep rollin', gotta keep ridin',
Keep searchin' 'til I find what's right
And as the sunset faded
I spoke to the faintest first starlight
And I said next time
Next time
We'll get it right

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Posted by Erik @ 7/05/2007 11:33:00 PM :: (0) comments

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Bob Seger reverie

Don't ask me why, don't ask me how, but I have found myself listening to the musical stylings of Bob Seger with some regularity lately. No rational explanation for this phenomena has yet presented itself, but I am sitting in front of the computer with Greatest Hits Volume 1 calling from the surround sound, waiting for the weather to make up its mind, and I am not annoyed. Bob is singing about working on his night moves, and I am not compelled to seek refuge in Tool, Linkin Park's new disc, or some vintage Doors. For some mysterious reason, I am in the right place and time for Bob Seger. Honestly, it's a little unsettling...

I remember being very young, 7 or 8 probably, and dreaming the usual little kid dreams. Fantasies of being a football hero, a super spy, or even a super spy football hero. Like most other kids, I would tie a blanket around my neck and run around the house pretending to be Superman or Batman. There were times when more unorthodox champions came to mind. For some reason, I remember pretending that the anonymous figures hanging on the back of garbage trucks were unstoppable forces protecting freedom and justice against the world's many evils. The mantra, "The Garbage Man cannot be stopped(!)" seemed so much more potent and funny then, but then, so did farting into a tape recorder.

And that's the point, isn't it? We're never so free as when we are imaginative, wide-eyed children seeing the world from angles other than those we are eventually conditioned to believe are our truths. Philosophers, artists, and scientific pseudo-gods have all declared the necessity of being able to tap into that reservoir of non-linear thought. Life is better understood if we approach it with a free mind and from various directions. This winding journey into an infinitely dangerous future is much more beautiful when its magic is not corrupted by the limitations and suppositions instilled in us as we grow older.

We turn spirituality into a business, love into a weapon, sex into a drug, money into a god, and time into an adversary, all in the name of adulthood and maturity. Our lives are spent working for the things we surround ourselves with. We are taught that fulfillment is not sandcastles on the shoreline, or time spent imagining magic is real, but by 5 bedroom homes, BMWs, and 401Ks. Life becomes an exercise in practicality. Eventually, most of us will surrender our broad concept of what is possible in order to seek shelter in normalcy. Are we healthier for it? Consider the broader picture around us. Better yet, look at that same picture as it relates to all of recorded history. Have we ever been healthy? Has there ever been harmony?

I believe these things and consider all of these questions, yet I am currently enjoying Bob Seger. Bob Seger is the antithesis of child-like perception. His songs are melodic, but utterly mundane. In Bob Seger's world, the "real" world, we fuck, we fall in love, we fight, we walk away, we repeat. What could be more average? That's not to say the music is bad, per se. As I said, I'm digging it, but its scope is intrinsically limited and unimaginative. Maybe therein lies the appeal. It's simple, accessible, and almost anti-intellectual, yet his songs retain a certain emotionality. Using simple imagery and language to convey complex experiences and feelings is no mean feet, for sure.

So there are some redemptive aspects to what Seger was/is doing, but that is not to suggest anything profound is to be found in his words. That's not why I listen to Seger, or just about any other mainstream rock band from the past or present. Very few of these people actually had SOMETHING to say, but the gifted ones had remarkable ways of saying the same old thing, and sometimes, that in and of itself can be a beautiful thing. Hell, in many ways, that's all I'm ever doing, so I can only hope that I one day find a new and imaginative way to go about the business of endless repetition.

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Posted by Erik @ 7/04/2007 06:06:00 PM :: (0) comments

Clinton-Obama in '08?

Warning, the following will be boring for most, and is largely uneducated political opinion and/or speculation on my part. If my thoughts on these things interest you, something probably went horribly wrong during your childhood.

Barack Obama is now the number one money man in the race to the party primaries. He has earned $32.5 million in the last quarter, over $50 million total to date, and seems to be building some serious momentum. Most Democrats seem to think Hillary Clinton is the obvious pick, but Obama's strong financial showing says otherwise. Personally, I am still putting money on Clinton winning the Democratic primaries and looking to Obama as her Vice Presidential running mate. My buddy JR, aka Political Man, and I were talking about this scenario over lunch this weekend. He sees such a ticket as a mistake, since neither of the two has broad enough appeal to win over Republicans who are unhappy with the GOP. He's probably right, but I'm not sure that it will matter, if (and this is a big if), a Clinton-Obama ticket can energize enough female and minority voters who would not ordinarily vote to hit the polling stations.

Clinton will have a very strong position with women, particularly if Rudy Giuliani takes the Republican nomination (as is looking more likely). On one side you have Clinton, a woman with an adulterous husband who can position herself as the forgiving, loving wife. She gained sympathy and even admiration in how she handled herself during the Monica Lewinsky debacle. That's a powerful thing in a country where 60% of marriages end in divorce, with a significant number of those ending because of infidelity. In a strange twist of subjective morality, the same adulterous husband is also the most popular man in Democratic Party politics today. A telling statement on America's collective morality, no doubt. So, in a very real way, her association with the country's most famous adulterer, and the Dem's most beloved son, gives her a double shot of poll strength. She appeals to women, as a woman with a viable shot at the White House how could she not? But she also appeals to the Democratic base, since her husband represents something of a hero to that particular segment of society. Powerful stuff.

Speaking of adulterers, Rudy Giuliani knows a thing or two about sticking his hand into the mistress cookie jar. Rudy has had two failed marriages, the last involving a bitter split caused by his repeated humping of a woman who was most definitely not his beloved wife. From what I have read, the ex and most of his children are not very fond of dear, old dad these days. I am still curious to see how a man running for the nomination of a party which falsely accused, and simultaneously disgraced, a decent man like John McCain, will fair when the gloves come off in a primary run. Assuming Rudy survives, and he probably will, given the weak name recognition plaguing other Republican candidates, and the fact that he is the man credited with cleaning up New York. Of course, we all remember his speeches following the September 11th attacks in 2001, so he has some political capital there. But really, we've seen what a horrible job a GOP governor can do once he's in the White House. How could we possibly expect a man who has only reached the level of a city mayor to step up and lead an entire nation? Better yet, how do you trust someone who lies to his (ex-)wives and children? A man who lies to his loved ones is going to lie to people in whom he has made no emotional investment whatsoever. Why would he not?

In my opinion, Clinton has a decent chance of beating Giuliani, should the two meet in a race to the White House. I am not at all impressed by her performance in the Senate, or her behavior as a person, but I do have to admit that I would probably vote for a Clinton-Obama ticket. In my mind, giving a man like Barack Obama the chance to back up his talk with possible action is worth the risk of putting a relatively inexperienced VP in office. If nothing else, I would enjoy watching America's shrinking, white, Republican, male, controlling minority cringe and rage against a Clinton-Obama victory. Those same white, Republican males have been running things for eight years, and anyone can see what a travesty the American political system has become during that time. Why not take a chance on a woman and a black man? They would have to discard the Constitution, invade China AND Iran simultaneously, while speaking backwards at every press conference, in order to put the country in a worse position than it is today.

p.s. I was pulled over this morning for expired tags! Yes, I somehow managed to forget my renewal, though I am fairly certain that I sent in the paperwork a while ago. Can't find it anywhere here, but that's not too surprising, given my "stack it and stuff it" filing strategy. Regardless, the cop was cool, as he gave me a heads up and let me go on my way. FYI, the tax collector only accepts cash or checks free of charge. I know this because my first trip over on the bike turned into another trip home, so that I could retrieve my checkbook. Everything worked out in the end, as I did not pay any penalties (renewed within 10 days of my birthday) and got some seat time on the bike. We're at nearly 2,000 miles together. For the first time in a long time, I think I'm in love! :)

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Posted by Erik @ 7/04/2007 12:35:00 AM :: (6) comments

Sunday, July 01, 2007

These things happen

Let's say you are on your way home from a get together for PEL visual arts students and staff in Saint Petersburg. In hopes of staying dry, you are skirting a Summer thunderstorm that looks as if it is on the verge of dumping a significant amount of water onto everything in your immediate vicinity. Maybe you lose track of which street you're riding on, but notice that signs for the interstate are pointing straight ahead. You follow said street to its terminus, in this case an interstate on-ramp. Perhaps this on-ramp is your desired destination, or mayhap it is the final access to a stretch of concrete leading you on a one way journey across 9 miles of bridge whose other end is the last place you intended to go on this particular outing.

So I'm riding over the Howard Frankland on an unplanned field trip to Tampa, cursing loudly into my helmet, and thinking of the middle-aged sport bike rider who left his soul on the Frankland's pavement a couple of weekends ago. It was a typical sport bike accident: high rate of speed+car=afterlife. Statistically, interstates and bridges are two of the safest places to ride, since there are typically multiple lanes of traffic, all headed in the same direction, with no intersections. But the Frankland, the Gandy, and the Courtney Campbell aren't just bridges providing convenient links between South Pinellas County and downtown Tampa, they are race tracks to those who are inclined to open the throttle and tempt the Fates.

There have been a number of sport bike accidents and fatalities on local bridges lately. On the one hand, it is a tragedy, because the people involved are typically young, though middle-aged men seem to be having their share of high speed physics lessons as well in recent weeks. On the other, it is difficult to feel sympathy for someone who was rushing along at a healthy 120mph+ in traffic on the back of a motorcycle. It becomes a "just because you can, does not mean that you should" situation, which can have catastrophic results.

Thankfully, I had no incidents going across. Along the way, I decided that the best plan was to take a trip back to Clearwater via the Courtney Campbell Causeway, so I hit Tampa, effectively turned right the feck around, and came back. Luckily, this one way ticket almost made the trip worth it, as the sun was about an hour and an half away from setting when I started out, so there was a golden sheen over the Bay waters, which looked almost azure through my sunglasses. The breeze was steady, everything had the smell of fresh rain, but the roads were dry, the temperatures were tolerable, and traffic was sane. I ended up riding over 20 miles East/West, and covering about 8 North/South. Not the most efficient way to get home, but these things happen.

I'm more convinced than ever that my seat needs a total rebuild. If I were 5'8" and stocky, it would be perfect, but I'm nearly 6'3" and long-limbed, which makes anything more than an hour in the saddle exponentially more uncomfortable, the further I ride. The seat goes for a custom rebuild and cover this coming weekend, so the bike will probably be down for a full week or so, but it will be worth it once all is said and done. My ass and lower back can't wait!

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Posted by Erik @ 7/01/2007 11:37:00 PM :: (0) comments

Guilt by association

This guy rides a Harley-Davidson. In many ways, he embodies the stereotypes so many people foster about Harley riders. Every time I watch this, I am conflicted between embarrassment and amusement. It takes all kinds, I suppose.

Warning, this video is probably going to kill precious brain cells and waste precious minutes. If you have something better to do, say making a sandwich, or evacuated your bowels, I would recommend putting this aside.



In an attempt to save this post, I will add a couple of quick clips featuring a stupid fast Harley-Davidson. Keep in mind, this is a naturally aspirated, air cooled , V-twin moving over 800lb of metal and rider. It won't do 200mph, but it definitely gets to 60 in a hurry. :)

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Posted by Erik @ 7/01/2007 01:18:00 AM :: (0) comments